


dorian

by goodmorninglou



Series: the adventures of a wild sprace’s apartment [42]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Sprace Apartment AU, YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS, sprace, sprace gets a baby, yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorninglou/pseuds/goodmorninglou
Summary: spot and race’s lives change





	dorian

**Author's Note:**

> hi y’all  
im literally SO SORRY AHEIRWIDBNGJDK i haven’t posted in ages but i haven’t slept in almost a week im running on vitamin gummies and tea school is kicking my ass tee hee  
hope y’all enjoy??

Race stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair, and made a face.

“Is your cat in a onesie?”

Spot didn’t look up before saying “No.” even though Squirrel was, in fact, in a onesie. 

Race snorted and walked into their bedroom, to change, tossing his phone onto the couch and drying his face.

When he walked back into the room,tugging his shirt onto his torso, his phone started buzzing, the screen lighting up.

Race froze mid-step.

It was the adoption agency.

Spot straightened in his chair at the table, watching his husband’s lips part, a glass half-raised to his mouth. “What is it?”

Race glanced up, and back down. “It’s Maria from the agency.”

Spot set his water down, and Race picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Antonio, hi! It’s Maria, from the agency.”

He sank shakily down to the couch, reaching out a hand for Spot, and nodded. “Hi, Maria.”

Spot appeared at his side and he turned the phone on speaker. “I have good news!” She singsonged. 

Race let out a breath. “You do?” Spot’s hand wrapped around his.

“There’s a teenage girl named Anne, five months pregnant with a baby boy, and she loved your application. She lives in New Jersey, but she’s coming to the city for a weekend trip in a few weeks, and she would love to meet you!”

Race couldn’t breath.

“You’re serious?” Spot spoke up for him, grinning widely.

“Perfectly, loves. So... you want to meet her?”

“Yes!” Race exploded, bouncing up and down. “Oh my god, oh my god, yes!”

“Sounds great! I’ll call you later with details. Bye, loves!”

Spot grinned. “Bye, Maria.”

The line went silent, and Race looked at his husband.

He smiled.

—

A knock on the door three weeks later, and Race skidded to it and swung it open.

A young, wide-eyed and extremely pregnant young girl was on the other side of the threshold, her red hair in a wild updo and her shoes on the wrong feet.

“Hi!” She said, much too loudly, and then again, quieter, “Hi.”

Race waved her in. “Holy shiiii—shoot, hi.” He corrected, gesturing for her to sit on the couch and sitting beside her. “My husband is out at the supermarket, he’s going to absolutely implode when he realizes he was gone when you showed up. It’s all right, though, he’s goofy like that. I’m so sorry, I’m rambling, I’m just really excited!”

Anne smiled, wide and excited and gorgeous. “Oh my gosh, me too!” She looked down at her feet, then gasped. “I put my shoes on wrong!” Her lower lip jutted out.

Race chuckled. “We’re both a little frazzled, hey?”

She nodded, and Spot opened the door.

“Oh my god!” He said, in the highest voice he’d ever used. Race burst into laughter, and Spot hurried over and held a hand out. “Hi! I’m Sean, or Spot, whichever you want.”

Anne shook his hand. “Hi! Hi, I’m Sean. No! No, you’re Sean, I’m Anne, it’s great to meet you.” She rambled wildly; she had a tendency to do that, it seemed. But, then, so did Race. “Holy fuck, I can’t speak today. Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, blue eyes widening imperceptibly, and Spot and Race laughed at the same time.

“So,” Spot sat beside Race and across from Anne, eyes glittering. “If I’m not overstepping... can we know your story?”

Anne nodded. “Yeah!” She smiled softly. “Um... well,” a hand rested softly on her swollen stomach. “His father was an amazing man. My high school boyfriend, a straight A student, on Honor Roll and all that.” A small smile. “But, uh... the day I found out I was pregnant, I also found out that he’d been in an accident. Some drunk driver swerved and hit him head-on. He died on impact. And that...” a dry, unamused laugh. “That sort of broke me in half.”

Race reached over to take Spot’s hand, and Anne smiled fondly at it.

“Parker never knew that I was pregnant. And I know he would have been scared, but it would’ve been alright. But I—“ she smiled at them. “I had a comically good childhood. And not only do I not want to raise a baby all by myself at 16, but I want that baby to have the amazing childhood I did.” She wiped away a stray tear, and then smiled. “So...” a giggled. “That’s what I’m here for. 

Race smiled and blinked away his misty eyes. “Wow.” He chuckled slightly. “Thank you so much for that.”

Anne grinned widely, looking between the two of them, and then patted her thighs once. “So, tell me about you guys, your story.”

“Oh, God.” Spot snorted, and Race grinned at him. “Well, we met when we were about nine, I sat in front of him in class and he threw up all over me after drinking milk with pepper in it on a dare.”

Race gasped and slapped his arm. “You promised you’d never tell anyone that story!”

Spot just shrugged, and Anne giggled. “Well, either way, we both went down to the nurse because he was puking and I was covered in it, and once I changed clothes and he wasn’t sick anymore, we just sat in there for a while until he literally said to me, ‘You’re my best friend.’ And I just said ‘Fine.’” The two of them chuckled at the memory, and Anne’s smile widened, somehow. “We’ve been best friends since. We moved in together when we were twenty one, started dating at about twenty three, got married at twenty six. It’s been like a gay fairy tale.”

Race snorted aggressively. “That’s accurate.”

Anne chuckled, mumbled something to herself, eyes darting around the apartment. “It’s a lovely place you’ve got here. You have an extra room for a nursery, right?”

Race nodded, heart lifting in his chest. “Yeah, it used to be Spottie’s room.”

“Now, tell me about these nicknames.” She smiled. “Where did they come from?”

Race laughed. “Well, I’m Race because I was the fastest runner on my high school cross country and track team. Jack, my brother-in-law, sort of went through a thing in high school where he gave everyone weird nicknames.”

“Right.” Anne nodded, laughing, and looked to Spot. “And your story?”

Spot shrugged. “In all honesty, I’m not sure. I’d assume it’s because of my freckles—“ he pointed to the dots splattered across his face. “—but knowing Jack, it could’ve been some ridiculously obscure reason that I have no clue of. He’s a bit wild like that.”

She smiled, brushed a strand of her red hair from her eyes. “That’s cute. Will he give the baby a nickname, too?”

Race took a breath, eyebrows drawing up. “I—I mean, if we—if you end up wanting to—to—“

Anne giggled quietly, reddening slightly. “I read over, like, a million applications for this baby. None of them felt remotely close to the right fit. But the two of you... I mean, it didn’t take long to see that you guys have a totally loving and fulfilled life. This apartment is beautiful, your joint income can totally handle a baby.”

Spot was squeezing Race’s hand so tight it felt as if he might bruise the bone. “So you want to give him to us?”

“I think so.” A grin. “You guys give me a good feeling, and that’s all I want Parker’s baby to have. Something good.”

Race squeaked, started forward, halted himself with his arms wide. “Can I hug you?”

Anne nodded with a wide smile, opening her arms. “Yes!”

He pulled her into a hug, his heart pounding in his chest, tears pooling in his eyes. “Thank you so, so much, Anne. This is amazing!”

Anne tugged Spot into the hug, smiling, and nodded.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

—

“ _Spooooot!_ ” Race yelled, catapulting himself off the couch and walking around frantically. “Spot, it’s Anne! A 911, the baby’s coming!”

Spot slid out of the bedroom frantically, crashing into the TV stand and falling flat on his ass before shooting back up. “Oh my god!” He yelled, holding a random shoe in his hand.

Race nodded. “I know!” A manic grin. “We—we have to go!”

“Oh my god!” Spot said again. “We’re having a baby!”

“Oh my god!” Race echoed, scrambling around the apartment. “Oh my god, ohmygodohymgod!”

“Should I put on a suit?” Spot asked wildly, brown eyes wide.

“Why would you put on a suit?”

“So I can make a good impression on the baby!”

“Spot,” Race snorted, doubling over slightly. “I think he’ll let this one go, considering he’ll be  minutes old .”

Spot reappeared from their bedroom, pulling on a mismatched sock, and shrugged. “Can never be too careful!” He said, far loudly than he should have, not that Race could blame him. He felt like the every atom in his body was humming.

Race shoved his shoes on, even though he’d put them on the wrong feet, and reached for Spot’s hand.

Their fingers threaded together, and the door closed behind them.

—

Anne’s cheeks were the same color as her hair as she slept in the hospital bed, and Spot was holding he and Race’s newborn son in his arms.

Race stared lovingly down into his face. He didn’t think he’d looked away from their perfect little baby’s face since the moment he’d seen it.

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful baby.” Spot whispered dazedly, blinking away a little shine in his eyes. “Most babies are ugly, but this one is beautiful.”

Race chuckled, leaning his head on Spot’s shoulder. “You’re right. It sounds horrible, but you’re right.”

Spot’s thumb ran softly down the side of the baby’s cheek. “Are we going to name him?”

“Whoa.” Race leaned back and smiled. “This feels very intense. We decide what this small person is called. We could call him Spork and he’d just have to live with it.”

Spot blinked once, twice, smiling slightly. “Did you just suggest we name our child Spork?”

“No.” Race chuckled. “I’m just saying we could.”

“We won’t.”

“I know that.”

Spot chuckled and moved the blanket from the baby’s brow, his strong, callused palm practically the size of their son’s face. “What should we call him, then?”

“By Jesus, I don’t know!” Race whispered, laughing. “Is there a family name, maybe?”

“My father’s name was Greg, so, I’d say no.” Spot snorted, kissing Race’s cheek softly.

“Well, my dad’s name was Fiorello. I win in the bad names department.” Race pointed out, laughing. “What’s a good name?”

“Dorian.”

Race felt his heart go still.

“I read it in a book.” Spot murmured, looking up into Race’s eyes. “I remember thinking it was beautiful. Melodic, like the Dorian scale, you know?”

Race nodded dazedly. “I like Dorian.” A grin. “A lot.”

Spot smiled and looked down at their baby. “Dorian.” He whispered. “Our baby Dorian.”

Race wiped away a tear.

“Our baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> awwww  
so i know that was CRAPPY but as previously stated i haven’t slept in almost a week and ive eaten only vitamin gummies and tea sooooo i love you  
be happy!! in welsh folklore, it was said that fairies rode around on corgis. how fucking beautiful is that??  
<333


End file.
